Just a Phase
by Piggwidgeon
Summary: Louis is not having satisfaction in his relationships. He's convinced that his inability to think of anyone but the people of his past is...just a phase. Slash. Pinky Green's Running Away Challenge.


Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter Characters or Setting.

AN: So…this is kind of…provocative? I don't even think that's the right word, but it's not safe, if you get what I'm trying to say. Just thought I'd warn you. This is my first time writing something this…sexual? So, please cut me some slack and constructive feedback is welcome.

This was written for Pinky Green's Running Away Challenge.

Just a Phase

Louis Weasley moved to France. He opened a WWW shop there. He had a life. He fucked every girl on his block. Some of them twice. He didn't care, though their boyfriends or husbands often did. It made him feel good. That's all that mattered.

But when he was done with the girls, leaning over the counter at the shop, his hair tousled and his face unshaven, and his pants in his room and his shirt on the floor and his boxers a crumpled mess…he ran his hands through his blond hair. It wasn't right. It wasn't that his morals got in the way. Even Dom admits his little brother doesn't have morals. It just never _felt_ right.

He knew he wanted more. He knew this wasn't going to cut it. He knew he had to change. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He wanted a relationship. With someone strong, someone who could wrap their arms around him and squeeze the air out of him, help him move boxes of product, who wasn't afraid of some rough sex, who could give it to him…He slammed his fist on the counter.

He wasn't going to do it. He wasn't.

"Louis?" A soft hand ran across his shoulders.

He turned, wrapping his hands aggressively behind her head and diving into a kiss. She pulled away from him, both breathing heavily. He lifted her up and put her on the counter, pulling down her underwear, biting back the urge to leave her clothed.

"Louis…"

He started kissing her shoulder and collarbone, licking her pale skin and sucking her soft flesh.

"Louis! Stop for second."

He looked up at her, a fierce desire burning in his blue eyes.

"I have to go or my papa…"

"Who cares about your father?" He started kissing her again.

"Louis…please…"

"Don't go," he said, putting his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Please…please don't go."

"I told you I can't stay the night."

"It's only midnight…"

"And my papa will be checking my room. I have to go." She gently kissed his hand. "I'll be back."

"No you won't." Louis let his hand fall from her shoulder and started pacing. "You guys never are. You come once, maybe twice, but that's it."

"Louis…"

"No. Don't even bother. It isn't worth your time." He kicked a shelf. "Damn it."

She made to move.

"Don't leave."

"I have to leave."

"No!" He threw his fist against the wall. "You aren't leaving!"

"I have to leave."

"No!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her still. "Please…please don't go."

"Let go of me!" She struggled to get away. "You're hurting me! Let go!"

"Don't leave!"

She slapped him.

He let go, the strength leaving him. She ran upstairs for a few minutes and came back down in her skinny jeans and red top.

"Goodbye, Louis," she said, leaving the shop.

Louis leaned on the counter, his head limp, his hands clasped tight, his body shaking. Damn it. Why did he do this? Why did everyone he sleep with leave? Why couldn't he find someone who would stick around?

Someone? Did he really want _someone_ to stick around? If he wanted, he could find _someone_ to stick around. He gritted his teeth. No. He didn't want _someone. _If he wanted _someone_, he would have stayed with Sarah or Joanna or Adele or Nicolette or any number of other girls that had floated into his apartment. Some of them had wanted it, too. He had told them no. Or ruined it by sleeping with someone else. He didn't want any of them. He only wanted…

He stood up and went to his apartment. He pulled a bottle of firewhiskey out of the cabinet and sat down on the couch, starting to down it. All these girls, all these nights, all this _distance_ and he still couldn't get him out of his head. His turquoise hair mussed up from flying, his broad shoulders stretching his Weird Sisters tee-shirt, his jeans ripped and low to reveal his plaid boxers, his smile easy on his face. Louis downed a quarter of the bottle in one go. Victoire hanging off him, running her hands over his solid chest, his arms wrapped around her. Damn it.

Tommy. More whiskey. Incredibly sexy. No. He couldn't think like that. He…he _couldn't_. His hands were always cool, calming. And he really knew how to ride a broom. Fire whiskey. And his hair -- so soft, so thick, so _brown_. Louis struggled to swallow. Tom had tried to make a commitment. Louis hadn't let him. He tipped the bottle back, taking a big mouthful and relishing in the pain. Now, Louis couldn't remember why. No. He could. It was wrong. So wrong.

Anton, the most recent assault on his identity. _Flaming_. Louis couldn't even account for why he thought he was so so _so _fuckable. He took more whiskey. Maybe it was his face, completely masculine and yet totally _cute_. He gritted his teeth.

Did he just use the word "cute"? Whiskey.

He was really getting drunk, wasn't he? Whiskey. He didn't care. Whiskey. He had to get rid of these thoughts, rid of these feelings. Whiskey.

Oh, what he would give to kiss Aton's firm mouth, to press his tongue against his, to smell his cologne, to…No. Stop, Louis. Stop. Ridiculous. Stupid, stupid man. To thrust his penis inside him, to _feel_ him around him, to…he reached down and touched himself, his body aroused. Whiskey.

Anton…Whiskey…Tom…Whiskey…Teddy…all _men_, all _inappropriate,_ all _ridiculous._

"Fuck." Louis laid back on his couch, wasted, exhausted, his face red and body sweating. He pulled off his boxers and finished off the bottle of firewhiskey. He was such a drunk. The image of Teddy in his swimming trunks, wet from Uncle Percy's pool, filled his mind. He reached between his legs again.

This was just a phase. He would get Isabella in here tomorrow and everything would be fine. Everything would be back to normal. Or maybe Sylvie or Antoinette. Any of them would do. Any of them would let him have them.

He imagined himself kissing Anton, pinning him to the wall and breathing his scent, eating his taste, feeling his texture. Aton would let him take him, would need him to take him. To fill that need rather than scratch at an itch. He shook his head. He wanted more than permission.

He licked his lips and breathed heavily. He closed his eyes, naked on his couch. There was a woman who could do that for him. Right? That's what his mama always said. Someday he would find that perfect person. In the meantime, he was convinced, he was just going through a phase. Yeah, that's it.

This was just a phase.


End file.
